Falling Slowly
by Remi G. Craeg
Summary: Please make me not so crazy, make me fall apart. Make me think beautiful, unexpected thoughts. This is probably more of a strong T than M but better safe than sorry.


Falling Slowly  
by Remi Craeg

2015 EST, Wednesday  
June 16, 1999  
Mulder's Apartment

The city's natural light was gone long before the clocks chimed ten. Street lamps glowed orange in an attempt to recreate the sun's setting brilliance. Deep blues and subtle pinks were replaced with ominous clouds and dark shadows that enveloped the alleyways like a bingeing boa constrictor.

Tire treads sliced through drizzle-glazed streets with an eerie hiss, startling Mulder out of his captured gaze. He stood and peered down to the wet pavement. Watching a couple walk their dog seemed like an acceptable distraction from his case file. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he found voyeuristic observation more interesting than manure farms and background checks.

Mulder enviously noted their lazy pace and how easily one leg mimicked the other's, but they paused when a streak of lightning lit the sky. He wondered if perhaps they hadn't noticed the rain, or didn't care.

"Hey, Scully. The storm's breaking," he spoke quietly over his shoulder, but Scully was asleep with her head dipped uncomfortably low against an anemic pillow.

Mulder smiled and drifted back to the couch to work his ratty blanket out from behind her and lay it over folded limbs. When had it grown so cool?

A folder was thrown on the coffee table, then a remote. He'd probably be able to study that file better in this silence, but he'd rather mirror his partner on the other half of the sofa. He'd offer his shoulder in place of that ridiculous pillow, but he didn't have the heart to wake her, even though he knew she'd want him to; it was getting too late to share his furniture with both eyes closed.

For now, she could sleep.

* * *

2120 EST, Wednesday  
Mulder's Apartment

The only things an hour brought Mulder were a nasty headache and an itch in his legs. Fresh air would do him some good, he knew, but the raindrops had grown fatter while he'd perused Scully's supplied literature—June's _Cosmo _and _JAMA_, a peculiar marriage which he imagined the collective tagline to sound something like, "Europe's hunt for the new Ebola will make your guy moan in seven ways."

Maybe a water would help.

From the dim bulb in the refrigerator, he could count the bottles of water on the counter. Five in all, it's a wonder she'd fallen asleep with that much liquid ballooning her bladder.

After letting all the cold air escape, he grabbed a bottle. Ordinarily, the waft of refrigerated air would be a luxury. Tonight it chilled his bare toes.

Three gulps and he returned to his case notes that lay abandoned on the table. The bottled water followed him and settled on a makeshift coaster—he saw no other use for the glossy magazine, he'd already looked at all the pictures. Scully wouldn't mind the ring around actress' face, would she?

As the cushions took his weight, Scully roused. Her arms unwound and immediately reached for the ceiling. "Mm," she mumbled and readjusted the blanket. Mulder smiled at the wrinkle that the seam of the cushion made on her cheek. He reached out to push the hair from her eyes but she caught his wrist and checked the watch wrapped around it. "Why didn't you wake me?" she wondered. Twisting his arm like that, the big hand and little hand must've been upside down to her. She didn't seem to mind and he shrugged.

"It's late. I should go," she admitted and pushed herself up with one hand on the sofa, the other low on his thigh.

"Stay," was his whispered offer, trying again to put that hair behind her ear. She eyed him closely; skepticism came easily to her, he noticed not for the first time, even as she regarded him instead of one of his theories.

"Mulder." She spoke softly, a warning. "We have a flight in the morning," she added but it seemed to him that that wasn't her excuse.

"I bet you packed before you came over here. Maybe even put the bags in your car?" he guessed. He pulled the blanket over his lap, they were sharing it now.

Scully nodded at her transparency. She was admittedly predictable.

A minute trickled by before she moved again. To his surprise it was to cross that imaginary line separating his and her cushions. This was the no man's land as living room furniture went, and she boldly charged right through to rest her head upon his shoulder. Would it be too much for him to pull her arm across his stomach?

"You make a good pillow, Mulder." Her words were muffled against his chest and he smirked at her hair. "And that water is sweating all over my magazine." He tried not to laugh at her words, chosen particularly well. Was it possibly that he too had become as transparent as she? And could that explain where this comfort came from?

Mulder snatched the bottle in his right hand and sipped at it dramatically. Eyes rolled at him, but he ignored them.

"I can pull this out if you want," he told her and poked the cushion with an exploratory finger. Sensing her apprehension, "Come on, Scully," and two fingers tugged her sleeve as a toddler might to a pant leg. "It'll be like a slumber party."

She smiled, "I think we're a little old for that." Her position remained, and he was sure she didn't want to move. "I'll regret it," she started; he was already grinning.

"Why would you regret staying with me? You think someone will find us in a tangle of sheets and send for a reporter?"

Her eyebrow jumped. "Or Skinner." She paused, "And who mentioned anything about it being us? Mulder, don't you have a real bed anymore?"

"You know I get sea sick," he told her seriously. Scully snorted, but he beat her to a response. "Besides, I think my thermostat is broken, who will keep you warm?"

"Right, Mulder. I don't know about those Oxford women, but I won't fall for that."

Mulder chuckled and rose from the cushions.

"I need my overnight from the car." She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

"No, I'll get you something to sleep in. You missed the rain outside?" Mulder nodded toward the window and frowned.

She glanced outside where water dove to the ground like a million kamikaze pilots, soaking everything in its path. The glass was only open a crack, but she felt the splash of rain on her hands as the wind picked up, causing a shiver to run through her. Lightning cut through the night sky somewhere in the distance and managed to light the entire room in a strobe flash. The thunder followed predictably, rumbling the floor beneath her.

"The storm just started," he said in the doorway.

She nodded and left the window, absently wondering if she should've closed it.

"I left a towel in the bathroom for you."

A set of sheets fell to the table and covered the actress' now disfigured face. Scully approached him slowly and a hand covered his forearm before he could finish with the cushions.

"Thank you," she said, an almost undetectable smile on her lips.

The sheets didn't fit the thin mattress and he wondered how much movement it would take to unhook the elastic from the corners. Shrugging himself free from the thought, he cautiously kneeled onto the springs. God, he hoped this thing was safe for two adults to sleep on. And clean. Although, as he recalled, he'd only used it once before.

He paused, what made him think they would share this bed, on this night? He sat on a corner and dropped the pillowcase. Looking around there weren't many places for him to sleep, save the recliner and he wasn't looking for a prequel to tomorrow's flight.

Even if he didn't mind the seasickness, which was really the truth, his bed had sprung a leak a few months ago and he'd never repaired it. At this point however, he suspected Scully would not object—although he could never attempt an explanation as to why that would be.

At that moment, Scully appeared holding her neatly folded clothes and a towel draped around her shoulders. All were dropped onto the neglected coffee table without a second glance. Without meeting his eyes, she threw the covers back and climbed in next to him. Mulder watched her adjust her pillow (the one he'd found shoved in the back of his coat closet) without comment. He assumed she'd kick him off the bed, not really caring where he put his pillow so long as it wasn't next to hers.

Mulder was pleasantly surprised when she finally spoke and asked, "Are you going in to work tomorrow?"

"Before the flight, you mean?"

She nodded.

"No. I was going to sleep in." He watcher her carefully hoping to catch any indication of what she was thinking, but she gave him nothing.

Mulder adjusted himself so he could lay on his side and still see Scully.

"That sounds very appealing," she admitted and absently rubbed her neck.

"Live dangerously," he told her, but it was muffled against her pillow. He figured he'd take a chance and coiled his arm around her so she was within inches of his body.

"I don't wanna wrestle," she murmured, swatting at him halfheartedly. Mulder groaned against her neck.

"I was just saying goodnight," he explained with a small squeeze.

"Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Scully," he whispered.

And his lips grazed her neck. "Mulder?" she questioned but her words were swept away by another kiss, this time on the exposed skin of her shoulder where his shirt's neck was stretched in an unnatural way and hung limply on her bones.

"'Night," he repeated. She stared at the fingers that orbited her elbow. He dragged his hand sluggishly down her arm and groped for her hand. Scully rolled onto her back and found drooping eyes. Slowly, he gave her one more kiss, his lips catching the edge of her own, and pulled his arm, which was doubling as a prop, out from under his head.

Turning to her side, she faced him completely, and their hands met again, winding into staggered fingers.

They missed the thriving storm while they slept. And the rain continued to fall.

* * *

0150 EST, Thursday  
Mulder's Apartment

Sporadic lightning flashed in the room long after the rain subsided and Scully remembered that it takes a person a long time to grow accustomed to sharing a bed. She'd been awake since two. Her eyes first drifted over her partner, he was dead to the world, then flicked up to the window. It was one of those nights when the lightning outlasted the rain. All day it was rainy, a cycle of sprinkling to dumping buckets. Perhaps it was a lull, and she was convinced that even if the lightning passed, the rain would return.

"Wuswrong?" She heard him slur to her arm. Scully glanced back at him. The blankets had twisted around him sometime during the night, pulling them almost completely off of her. He followed her gaze. "Sorry." He smiled regretfully. "Can't sleep?"

"No. I'm not used to another person in my bed, that's all." She dropped her eyes, "It's just been a while."

Mulder gave her an understanding nod and untangled the sheets from his legs. "It's my bed," he reminded her with a light tap. The covers were replaced. He rolled onto his back and laid his arm out for her to follow.

For a moment Scully thought he fell back asleep in the stillness of the apartment, but his torso rumbled as he began to speak, "You're going to be grumpy tomorrow if you don't sleep."

"I don't get grumpy," she defended. Scully smiled for him and he stroked her hair back.

"Do you think all partners behave like this?"

"Hm," he chuckled, "Krycek and I used to nap together all the time on this very couch."

Scully roared into his ear. She hadn't expected him to answer and prayed he was only kidding. "I never pulled the hide-away out for him though."

"Our partnership has never been the norm," he amended and studied her reaction.

She nodded her consent.

"Are you worried?" he wondered.

"No. Not as much as I probably should be," she revealed in a soft tone. Her hand roamed the expanse of his chest and came to rest near the center. She looked up to find him watching her expectantly. "I'm not worried," she assured him. "But I'm also not convinced it's a good idea to be this—"

"Reckless?" he tried.

"I was going to say intimate."

His brow lifted, "Intimate, Scully? You coming onto me?" he mocked, backing away from her. She stopped him.

"Mulder, I'm serious. You know what I meant."

He nodded.

When Scully replaced her hand on his chest, she felt his thumping heart below the muscle and fascia and skin. "Your heart is beating so fast."

"Your hand is really cold," he replied with a lazy smile.

"Sorry," she said ruefully and started to pull away.

"Here, let me see." He caught her hand in his, rubbing it quickly between his other, then placed it back.

Scully smiled her thanks.

Mulder continued to study her, even when she turned away. "Scully," he nudged.

"Hm?" Her eyes were closed against his chest with her hand beneath her chin.

"I don't think I'd care about work if I could keep you just like this," he admitted. A finger traced her elbow. Someone snickered.

"Mulder, you'd be bored of me in a week."

"I've not been bored of you yet," he countered.

Scully tilted her chin up to glance at him. "I wouldn't be able to pay my bills," she reasoned.

"What would you need bills for? I've got everything you'd need."

She smiled and kissed the skin below her hand, "Who would pay yours then?"

Mulder shrugged, feeling a little defeated, and she smiled for him again. Her arguments didn't change the fact that he could lay here forever. It was true; work would come in second, no contest. He wondered when that had changed and when the truth mattered only if she was there to hear it, too.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"A lot of things," he answered quietly and kissed her almost as softly as she had moments ago. He didn't know why he did it, there seemed to have been no forethought, yet he'd probably do it again.

And he did.

Scully sighed when they separated and she automatically clamped to his side. A leg over his made a strange rise in the sheet and she fixed her gaze there momentarily. Then a hand was on her hip, eagerly imploring her to move closer, and she forgot all about abnormal shadows on the wall.

Mulder's fingers did laps around her shirt's hem, silently debating his next move.

He wondered stupidly if a hand on her bare skin would send him into cardiac arrest.

_Do it_.

But she did it for him, pulling his whole arm, by the wrist, under the cotton.

Yes, he could give up just about anything to touch this woman forever. This, he was convinced, would be his downfall. Syndicate take note.

He watched her carefully; it wasn't too late to back down. Her eyelashes fluttered, tickling his skin, and stayed close to her cheek when he fanned his fingers wide across her stomach. His hand crawled over her hip and sank to the small of her back, where with the smallest pressure their bodies became flush from knee to breast. She didn't want him to back down, now he was sure because her lips were resting next to his ear, her short breaths tickling the surround hairs.

"_Your_ heart is beating so fast," he echoed. She smirked right before her lips were on his.

_It's better this way._

He wanted to tell her that this would make her happy, though he was unsure where he got the idea that she wasn't. And he didn't care as she draped her leg over his again. It was instant heat, hers and his. Their hips were almost completely together now save the thin layer of cotton.

"I can't help it," she whispered. He wanted to tease her delayed response time, but her mouth covered up the words.

"This is why it was a bad idea to stay, Mulder," she spoke minutes later. She lifted her head to meet his eyes.

Smiling, he asked, "We're being reckless, aren't we?" Scully nodded, but kissed him again. Their legs tangled under the sheets while Scully wrapped her arms around his body. Mulder gently rolled onto her.

"God, Mulder," she sighed, "tell me we shouldn't be doing this."

Mulder knew she needed to hear that this wouldn't change them. He'd recognized a long time ago that change, for the most part, happened while one wasn't looking, and though sometimes welcome sometimes not, this self-initiating kind gave people too much control. And that power scared him. He couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear because he wanted this particular change.

Mulder shook his head and took her hand. "No, Scully."

Scully's face twisted in unexpected fear. There was really no way back to the partnership they'd once had, and for once, Scully realized it too. Before she could say anything Mulder's mouth danced over hers pulling her into his version of out-of-control.

He dipped his hips, pushing against her with his hips, and received an approving sigh in return. Scully looked at him seriously, he was grinning again, and she couldn't help but yank his body down once more.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," she mumbled and kissed the corner of his mouth while hands tangled in his hair. "This is us?"

Mulder kissed her hard, crashing sensitive lips against teeth and tongues. "Yeah, Scully," he confirmed breathlessly. "We'll be okay."

Smiling, she tugged on his pants. "I'm not worried, and I believe you, Mulder." She paused, placing her hands on his cheeks. "Now, take off your pants."

Mulder made a sound she'd call a growl and wasted no time complying. Her shirt, and everything underneath, was gone before he resettled between her legs. "Mm," came his murmured approval against her breast. Scully's fingers wound through his hair and held him to her skin.

He let go momentarily to run a hand from her breast, past her stomach, to the folds below. Her hips rose to those imploring fingers.

* * *

0700, Thursday  
Mulder's Apartment

By the time an alarm went off, they'd been awake for two hours, naked and curiously overheated.

"I thought we were going to sleep in, Mulder." Scully propped herself against the back of the couch as she reached for her watch.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" he asked, knowing full well she didn't want him to stop this little massage he'd started at least five minutes ago.

"Mm, I can always sleep on the plane…"

* * *

0945, Thursday  
En Route to Dulles Intl Airport

"For the record, I think this is the first time you've made us late."

Scully twisted in the passenger seat of her car with an appalled expression. "Don't deny it, Scully." He threw his head back, "'Oh, Mulder, don't stop…I don't care about the flight…uh, please!'"

If it was possible for her to look more mortified, he'd eat his hat. She made a sputtering sound that was supposed to start her arguments on the contrary, but her jaw snapped shut.

"Shut up, Mulder," was all she could manage.

"Oh, trust me, Scully, I hope it's not the last time we're late either," he laughed and tacked on a cute little wink that made her head snap to passing scenery.


End file.
